


first things last

by blessings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Day of School, Gen, Humor, Pre-Canon, Team Bonding, kuroo's existential crisis over responsibility and the passage of time, me really stretching a throwaway chemistry joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 01:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessings/pseuds/blessings
Summary: “I don’t feel comfortable inviting such impressionable students onto this team,” Kai announces, swaying slightly as Yaku collides with him on his mission to murder Tetsurou. “I’ve decided I’m going on strike.”Tetsurou’s first day as captain of Nekoma volleyball goes exactly the way Yaku said (threatened?) it would.





	first things last

**Author's Note:**

> for [thelastkorok](http://thelastkorok.tumblr.com/) and the [hq!! secret santa event,](https://dailyhaikyuu.tumblr.com/) posted as the ball dropped on a recording from nyc <3

Tetsurou pictures Nekoma volleyball as the final product of a long chain of chemical reactions. It’s the core of their philosophy, the center of their training -- they adapt to whatever comes at them, small adjustments that create something newer, better. Something Tetsurou doesn’t understand, even on the verge of his last year, is how a team that’s held onto a single strategy so fiercely can constantly change at the same time. Most days, he’s sure it all comes from Nekoma’s brain. Other days, it’s their heart. 

There are things that he knows will never change: Nekomata will always be Nekoma’s coach, the same way he’ll always be Tetsurou’s coach. Nekoma’s libero won’t ever have the acknowledgment Tetsurou thinks they deserve. And for this team, victory is the synthesis of what each player brings to the court. Like Yaku always reminds him, there’s no place for standouts or showoffs in their gym. Leave that to Fukurodani. 

Trading in fame and glory is part of being on a team with their kind of legacy -- when Tetsurou joined, he was just one more addition in a long line of small changes. Nobody that’d make a Top Five ranking, but integral to how Nekoma plays that season, that match, that _set_. To him, it’s an honor to be absorbed into the team’s history so completely.

Today’s change is just a little bit bigger, but nothing Nekoma won’t adapt to. He hopes. 

It’s not anything he has time to worry about anyways. Tetsurou has so much _stuff_ going on that he doesn’t even have a minute to stop and think about it being his first day as the captain of a legacy he’s known about since before Kenma, because today’s also his last first day of school. Not only that, he has to cope with it being his last first day as a high school volleyball player, _and_ his hair is refusing to show him the respect he deserves and just _lie flat_ for once. If there was ever a day he needed to make a good impression, this is it. 

He’s got some big plans for Nekoma volleyball this year, and he’s taking the first step towards them as soon as his industrial strength hair gel performs as advertised. 

At a certain point, though, Tetsurou knows that applying too much pressure can cause something to shatter, and this includes his comb. He sets it on the counter with a sigh, bracing his hands on either side of the sink.

“You can do this,” he tells his reflection. “You have two years of experience. You love this team. You love this coach. Does the team love you? Debatable, but that can be worked on. You’re still the smartest, most qualified, handsomest--”

“You’re a nerd,” a voice interrupts, startling him enough that he slips on the bathroom rug and lands in a semi-crouch, head swiveling until he spots the source of every fight-or-flight response he’s ever had.

“How did you get in here?” he chokes out.

“Your window was open,” Kenma says, shuffling his socks on Tetsurou’s carpet. 

“You don’t climb.”

“...Your mom let me in.” 

Tetsurou’s eyes dart left and right before he throws up a confident smirk and leans against his sink, sliding across a wet spot only a tiny bit. “Sooo, how much--”

“All of it,” he says, unimpressed. 

Tetsurou deflates. “Can you blame a guy for being a little nervous?”

“No,” Kenma mutters, turning towards Tetsurou’s kitchen and his cabinet full of Kenma’s favorite breakfast snacks. “Of course not.”

Tetsurou darts out after him, skidding across the tiles and hopping onto his toes to reach over Kenma, pulling out two of those artificial apple-flavored bottles of straight sugar he likes so much and ruffling his hair on the way down. “Drink your vitamins, Kenma.”

“Screw you, mom.”

Tetsurou collapses dramatically on top of his head, hand thrown over his eyes to shield himself from the crass language his best friend wields like tiny knives. 

“Get _off_ , idiot!” There it is. 

Tetsurou combats vulgarity the way he’s learned to after nearly a decade of getting to know Kenma -- with impeccable manners. “Sorry, can’t move! You’ve killed me. This is my final resting place. Leave me be, please and thank you.” 

That’s how Tetsurou starts off his last first day: notebooks pressing into his spine through his backpack, being shoved out his own front door by a gremlin half a head shorter than him, cackling the entire time.

\---

“This is our last first day together,” Kenma mumbles thoughtfully some time later, once they’ve made it halfway to their station and he’s run out of the energy necessary to give Tetsurou the silent treatment. 

Tetsurou holds it in for a record six seconds. “Stop, _stop_ , don’t look-- don’t look at me, just leave me here, how could you just _say_ something like that--”

“Technically, every new thing we do is the last first time we do it.”

“Was that supposed to make me _feel better_?” Tetsurou asks incredulously, voice rising in pitch and volume.

“Of course not. Suffer.”

They make it to their secret shortcut under the bridge before Kenma gathers enough words together to talk again. 

“I was making a point, though,” he continues, like he never stopped speaking. “There’s no reason to be nervous about this particular day. It’s not that different from any other.” 

“You said it yourself! Our last first day together! That’s a huge deal,” Tetsurou says, jumping onto a higher step in his agitation. “We’re never gonna walk _this_ path, on _this_ day, ever again.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say,” Kenma grunts, tipping his apple juice over his mouth to get the last few drops. “I’m not the same person I was yesterday, and neither are you. So everything’s different, all the time. And there’s no point in being scared about it.”

Tetsurou can’t handle something that existential this early in the morning. “So, what, you’re like a clone?” he says, squinting at Kenma.

Kenma rolls his eyes and tosses his empty bottle at Tetsurou’s head. He sticks his tongue out and drops both their bottles in the usual recycling can.

Tetsurou can kinda see what Kenma’s saying. The path they take every day -- the path that they’ve taken every day for years now -- looks different from how he remembers finding it, like he’s gotten taller and is seeing it from a new angle, or maybe like the way he greets sunrises has changed.

“That’s what Nekoma is, isn’t it? You’re always going on about it,” Kenma mutters. “We get new players and a new captain every year but the core philosophy stays the same. We adapt, so you will too.”

Tetsurou blows a clump of hair out of his eyes, walking quietly alongside Kenma and trying not to think too hard.

“Still gonna be hard talking to a bunch of new people,” he says finally, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yeah,” Kenma sighs. “I’m already tired from comforting you. You’re a huge baby.”

Tetsurou pauses their morning walk to get into a brief scuffle outside the train station. They’ve never fought in this particular spot before and it changes the way Tetsurou is going to remember this day, so he stops before he proves Kenma right even more. 

“You’ll be fine. The team will be fine,” Kenma says decisively, after he’s broken out of Tetsurou’s clutches by threatening to scuff up his sneakers, letting his hair fall back into place without raising a hand. Tetsurou has been jealous over that for _years_. 

Kenma’s trying, which means everything to Tetsurou, but he’s also succeeded, which doesn’t always happen for either of them. He takes a deep breath in. “Thanks, Ke--”

“Kai’s there. He’s got it under control.”

Tetsurou’s mouth twitches traitorously, mirroring the small smirk on Kenma’s face. “So is Yamamoto.”

“The team will be mostly fine,” he amends, scowling. “You have Yaku, too, you know.” And then, quieter-- “And me.”

He suffers through a hug for half a second without murdering his best friend, which only makes Tetsurou more emotional. “ _Kenmaaa!_ ” 

Kenma throws his backpack at him. 

\---

Tetsurou fell in love with chemistry in the middle of a biology class. His teacher, in the middle of breaking down the building blocks of all life on earth, briefly mentioned that everything on the planet has a star for a common ancestor. Tetsurou, in junior high and already widely known as a sappy dork, was immediately fascinated and did enough research outside of class that he landed himself in advanced chemistry. It’s something he still likes thinking about, so much so that he wants to keep studying it after graduating -- the way life changed enough to bring him and everyone he knows from out there to down here. (It was also a big relief that it's chemistry, not biology, doing the real legwork in tracing the origins of life in the universe, ‘cause he was getting sick of making flashcards to keep track of all the parts of the cell.)

Sometimes though, Tetsurou has his doubts that he and Yaku share any stardust in common. 

“Look at the basketball team,” Tetsurou sighs morosely, hair flopping over one eye. “They already have so many sign-ups that their new first-years are recruiting for them!”

“Quit your whining!” Yaku barks, swatting him with his clipboard. 

“Why don’t _we_ have a manager to help?” Tetsurou doesn’t whine. 

“We traded having a manager for having you as our captain,” Yaku snaps. “No one would sign up to work with you.” He accepts Kenma’s offered fist bump gracefully as Tetsurou buries his head in his hands and groans.

Nekoma’s returning members are camped outside the doors of the school before classes start, hoping to get their recruitment done in time for afternoon practice. Turns out every club on campus had the same idea and he doesn’t care what Yaku says, it’s not Tetsurou’s fault that he didn’t know being captain required a _sales pitch._

“I don’t feel comfortable inviting such impressionable students onto this team,” Kai announces, swaying slightly as Yaku collides with him on his mission to murder Tetsurou. “I’ve decided I’m going on strike.” 

Yaku and Tetsurou shape up instantly, not willing to lose Kai’s support. The team would collapse without its backbone and neither of them will risk it. 

Kai smiles gratefully, eyes shut. “I’ll walk around for a bit. We can’t stand all huddled up like this.”

“There’s power in numbers though!” Yamamoto roars, flexing hard enough that a group of first-years look mildly impressed. Tetsurou doesn’t get his hopes up, he’ll ruin it soon-- “Hey! Shrimps! You like volleyball?” 

Tetsurou sighs. “Godspeed, Kai.” 

Kai claps a hand on his shoulder as he passes, determinedly not looking at the way Fukunaga is trying to hang off Yamamoto’s bicep with his arms and his legs and the way Yamamoto is trying to hide that he’s too heavy. He cuts a path through the mass of students, leaving a gap where a flash of silver catches Tetsurou’s eye.

There’s a giant approaching, at least 190 cm tall and still growing. Tetsurou already has to tilt his head up slightly to see all of him, even though he’s still a few meters away. Yaku’s bony fist repeatedly colliding with his ribs is the only sign he’s not dreaming.

“Damn. D’you think that hair is natural?” Yamamoto says, smoothing a hand over his mohawk.

“His parents must have stretched him as an infant. Like a rubber band. Or a chewed piece of gum,” Fukunaga contributes. 

“Kenma. _Kenma_ ,” Tetsurou hisses. “Kenma, grab that man.” 

“You want me to handle recruitment?” Kenma asks softly, hardly adding any inflection to his words. It’s still enough for Tetsurou to nearly concuss himself with how fast he looks down to appraise Kenma -- Kozume Kenma, wrapped up in a hoodie he picked up off the floor this morning and off a street corner before that, game held up so close to his eyes Tetsurou has left room in his calendar for an optometrist appointment for two years now, dark circles stark and layered heavily under his eyebags. This first-year is tall, but the shadows under Kenma’s eyes must be visible from the moon, and the spite in them visible from another galaxy.

Tetsurou restrategizes. “Yakkun. Grab that man.” 

“Why me?” Yaku spits. 

“Kai is busy, Yamamoto is overwhelming, and Fukunaga is...” Tetsurou gestures vaguely at Fukunaga, sitting with his legs over the back of a bench so his head is brushing the ground while trying to drink from a box of milk with a straw. “...Fukunaga. Plus, you’re the oldest.”

“Get out there, Yaku-senpai,” Kenma says and manages to make it sound like a threat. 

Tetsurou tries to copy Kai’s comforting hand-on-the-shoulder trick but just ends up shoving Yaku hard enough that he stumbles and looks back with murder in his eyes.

“Congrats on being the only one on the team who knows how to act normal!” he calls after him, wincing when a few eavesdropping first-years abruptly reverse course and head towards the basketball team’s captain. Tetsurou _hates_ that guy, he always steals the tall people. 

By the time he looks back, Yaku has disappeared into the crowd, probably trailing the magic first-year but not tall enough for Tetsurou to see him (ha). A sharp noise to his left distracts him from planning exactly how he’ll remind Yaku that he’s short, and he tilts his head down to take in a first-year with curly, light hair and the kind of eyes he would hate to see across the net.

It’s sales pitch time. “Hey there! Do you have any questions about Nekoma men’s volleyball?”

“I’d like to sign up,” the first-year says calmly. Tetsurou’s sales pitch is _amazing_ , screw what Yaku says. “Teshiro Tamahiko. I play setter.” 

Tetsurou’s carefully-honed danger sensors go off as he spots Kenma slowly lowering his game, eyes narrowed.

“Nice initiative!” Yamamoto crows, slapping a hand on Teshiro’s back. 

“Thank you,” he says stiffly, displaced several centimeters to the left. Fukunaga passes him a clipboard to fill out his personal info and then, for some reason, hovers over his shoulder and nods along, occasionally humming in a tone that Tetsurou can only describe as agreement. Kenma hasn’t stopped glaring at him. Yamamoto has begun rubbing his shoulders as an apology for nearly knocking him into another team. Tetsurou is on the verge of tears for the third time that day.

Teshiro, to his credit, isn’t fazed, which would worry Tetsurou if he wasn’t desperate and a little impressed. He hands the clipboard off, meets Kenma’s gaze evenly, and asks, “When is our first practice?”

Kenma’s eyes lower slowly, focusing again on his game. Tetsurou is so giddy with relief his brain taps out and forgets the question.

“When do you _like_ to practice?” Fukunaga asks, valiantly covering for him.

“It’s today. After classes,” Tetsurou says hurriedly. “We’ll get through introductions, run some drills, do some spikes. You know. Typical volleyball stuff.” He adds as an afterthought, already wincing, “I’m the captain.”

“Kuroo!”

He looks up gratefully to see Yaku marching towards them, scowling as one silver-haired giant trails behind him, waving ecstatically. 

“That was fast,” Tetsurou says, suavely, to hide how he’s trembling with excitement.

“He says he _likes volleyball_ ,” Yaku hisses. “But I don’t like him. So can we tell him no?”

“Do you want me to step away, Yaku-senpai?” the new kid offers politely, still smiling.

“No. Stand there and listen.”

Tetsurou lowers his gaze (ha) to look at him exasperatedly, fighting a smile. “Yamamoto, hand our new friend a clipboard. We’d love to have you...?”

“Haiba Lev!” he crows delightedly, reaching _down_ to grab the clipboard, Bokuto’s gonna _cry_ when Tetsurou texts him. “I played throughout junior high as a middle blocker, so I was looking for you guys! But it was hard for me to notice who was speaking at first, because I had to look down. Maybe we’d find more people if someone else was talking to students?”

Tetsurou does the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do in front of the new kids -- he lets them hear his laugh. Yamamoto joins in, mostly out of the kind of adrenaline-fueled shock that gets people through life-threatening events, and even Kenma lets out a quiet huff. Yaku looks torn between his responsibility to his team and his responsibility to the part of himself that’s inclined towards murder.

“Kid, do you wanna be captain?” Tetsurou asks between cackles. “Take my title. Take everything, god, I can’t breathe--”

“Shut up, old man, I swear I’ll get your kneecaps this time--”

“Wow, two new members already,” Kai cuts in with an arm around Yaku's shoulder, just in time as always. “I wasn’t even gone that long. Good work, guys.”

Tetsurou smiles abashedly. “Welcome back, Kai. You’ll never believe what our new captain Lev said--”

“You’ll never believe what I’m gonna do to Kuroo once you’re gone,” Yaku mutters, hunched over placidly. Teshiro and Lev, again, don’t give Tetsurou the reactions he would expect out of functioning first-years. Thankfully, the two that Kai has with him look appropriately scared. 

He leers at them a little bit, only out of instinct. “Well, well, well. Who’s this?”

Kai levels him with his most effective flat stare, the one that makes Tetsurou think about his finances and plans for the future, clapping a hand on the taller, spikier one’s shoulder. “Inuoka Sou, middle blocker--” he gently pushes the tiny one forward -- “and Shibayama Yuuki, libero. This is our captain, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

They bow politely and are immediately yanked into a huddle by their new teammates, masking the way Tetsurou’s breath hitched a little at hearing his name after that word for the first time.

“A libero, huh? Brave choice on this team,” Yaku says, arm looped over Shibayama’s shoulders.

He blinks, a little overwhelmed, but his voice is steady when he answers, “I think I’ll learn a lot with these guys.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Yamamoto yells, jabbing a finger at him. Yaku smiles, the real kind that doesn’t scare Tetsurou. 

“Inuoka’s been playing since junior high,” Kai informs Tetsurou quietly. “He’s got the height for our front line, yeah?”

Inuoka beams at the praise, nearly vibrating under Kai’s arm. Tetsurou’s the same -- he’d bet this is the tallest Nekoma’s ever been.

Kenma hunches in front of Tetsurou low enough to avoid being drawn into a group hug, still focused on his game. “The bell for class rang five minutes ago,” he mumbles quietly. "Just thought you all should know."

Through all the linked arms and bumping shoulders, Tetsurou can feel everyone around him freeze and turn to face the emptying courtyard as one. At least the teamwork’s already there.

Yaku starts shoving the group towards the school doors. “All of you eat a good lunch and drink lots of water! After classes are done, the real work starts,” he shouts, arms crossed. He looks commanding, so Tetsurou has the bone-deep urge to ruin it.

“Sure thing, mom,” he drawls. Yaku flushes and kicks at him, then switches direction midair and kicks at Lev when he laughs.

“We’ll see you all in practice,” Kai says, pulling Yaku out of the sky by the back of his shirt. “Class is going to be boring introductory stuff today, so feel free to start daydreaming about Nationals.”

They split off to the sound of cheers (not entirely unified yet, but a good starting point). Yamamoto is trying to goad Kenma into a race, the strongest unstoppable force meeting the most immovable object, while Fukunaga walks behind them in a way that looks like he’s floating, toes hitting the ground first. The new kids are a little removed from the older members but already grouped together, Shibayama pulling Inuoka along with him as they use Lev to clear a path. Teshiro takes it all in with wide eyes. 

“So this is us,” Tetsurou says softly, lingering in the back of the group just to watch. 

“The team that dominates Nationals.” Yaku bares his teeth in a grin. 

“Hopefully. Let’s see how they run drills first,” Kai says, measured.

“Yeah, but.” Tetsurou nudges Yaku with his elbow. “I’m pretty they’re gonna run drills like the team that dominates Nationals.” 

Yaku elbows him back, harder, and then Kai places a gentle hand on the back of their necks and pushes them forward. Tetsurou follows his team inside, every new addition and subtle change colliding, adding up to a Nekoma that’s bright, bright as the sparks in his chest lighting up his eyes from the inside out. 

\---

Without his team around him to keep his thoughts muted, it all hits Tetsurou at once in Nekoma’s clubroom, right as he sets his gym bag down. It’s his last first practice. He leans his forehead against his locker door -- _last first time using this locker_ \-- and takes a breath. He’s got to give a speech in the beginning to inspire everyone, for the first and last time. He has no idea what he could possibly say to explain to these kids how important this year is, no idea how to convey with words the type of legacy they’re a part of, one that’s always been more of a gut feeling for him.

“How are your classes looking?” Kai asks, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. Not for the first time, Tetsurou is grateful that he’s his vice -- he can always trust Kai to keep things grounded, to pull him back from whatever he’s focusing on to remind him of the big picture. 

“Good,” he says with a quiet laugh. “My last chemistry class before the big leagues.”

“Nerd,” Yaku scoffs softly. The three of them grabbed the key early, to clean up before the others get in. At least, that’s the agreed-upon excuse. It's all of their last first times, even if they don't talk about it.

Now that the whole team’s come together, Tetsurou’s starting to get it -- every iteration of Nekoma and everyone on this team, _his_ team, they’re all made of the same stuff, but never in the same combination twice and it’s beautiful.

“We’re never gonna be on this team again,” Tetsurou says hoarsely. 

Yaku stiffens minutely, then keeps shoving his shoes into his locker like it’s Tetsurou’s face. “I sure hope not. I don’t know about you, but I’m planning on graduating this year.”

“We’ll never play with guys like them again,” Tetsurou continues, straightening up to face them head-on. “We’re once in a lifetime. We _have_ to get to Nationals.”

Yaku finally turns to look at him. “Kuroo. It’s not even a question.”

“This is the team that dominates Nationals, after all,” Kai says. “How would we dominate without actually getting there?”

Yaku lets out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, captain. Dream bigger.”

These are the reactants hurtling towards each other on a collision course: three third-years, three second-years, four first-years and every lesson they’ve picked up from the teams that came before them. The final product, at the end of a long chain of reactions lit up like whole universes starting with a bang, is one team that’s going to win Nationals.

“Speaking of dreaming bigger -- I’ve been preparing a speech to really get our blood pumping before a match,” Tetsurou promises, grinning wildly as he pushes through the clubroom doors. The new kids are already heading their way, the second-years guiding them. He looks over his team -- _their_ team, the old and the new, for the last first time. And for the first time that day, he can’t wait to see what the rest of his last year holds. “Just you watch. It’ll be one to remember.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i just want to thank furudate for creating the greatest character known to man (Fukunaga Shouhei)
> 
> thank you for reading and see u in 2019!! find me on twitter [blessings.carrd.co](https://blessings.carrd.co/)


End file.
